Pairing: Lex/Clark
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Lex and Clark are not mine, but I treat them better than WB, so maybe they won't go back.

Summary: Every man needs a safe harbor.

Notes: A big thanks to A.J. as always for encouragement and betaing. To Tehomet for being a beta-gem, and to Signe for getting us together ;-)

Written for "The Intoxication Challenge - Of Blood and Wine" http://www.oxoniensis.popullus.net/intoxication/main.htm
It's all about intoxication, whether by love, wine, dope, happiness, power, the taste of flowing blood…. Let your imagination run riot - any intoxication is good.

Lying comfortably on the couch, listening to the heartbeat of his lover, Clark felt himself totally relax for the first time in days.

There was something about Lex that calmed and grounded him. He needed that - craved it, actually. Especially since he had become Superman. The more his alter ego stood in the spotlight, the more often he just wanted to hide in the arms of his multi-billionaire-almost-mayor-of-Metropolis boyfriend. It felt so good to be here; understood, loved, and cared for.

Because here, he was just Clark, the ex-farmboy from Smallville. One true love of Lex Luthor, his beloved for nine years, his lover for six.

Clark sighed. And could he get any more mushy? Probably. But he didn't care. He felt good. Mellow. Maybe even a little dizzy. He blinked in surprise. Yes, he felt dizzy. But it was a good kind of dizzy. Everything seemed a little brighter, a little less cold. Even Lex's collection of antique weapons. Clark's problems seemed to be just out of reach, which was exactly where he wanted them. He smiled, and knew that it came out as a goofy grin. 'Oops.'

Clark looked at the glass of wine in his hand and then up at his lover. "This stuff seems to get to me much more than it usually does. How come? New brand?"

Lex watched him with wry amusement. "First, this is an excellent wine not some 'stuff', and second it's the same brand as last week and the week before. You liked it and therefore I decided to stick with it."

"Then why ..." Clark started, but Lex wasn't finished.

"Neither did I spike it with drugs, nor did I handle it differently from before. My guess would be that you've already taken in more than your usual share; or maybe mixing different drinks doesn't agree with you." While talking, Lex had dipped his index finger into Clark's glass, and now he was running the aforementioned finger over Clark's lips.

Clark's tongue darted out, tasting the wine and licking the finger with lazy enthusiasm for a while. Only then did he get back to the conversation. "I only had two glasses of wine so far, Lex," he pointed out.

"Here, yes." Lex nodded, and ran his hand over Clark's chest, leaving a wet mark behind on the white shirt. "But you were at the Daily Planet earlier, and I think you mentioned an office party. Something about Lois Lane and you having won a prize for your latest article. Maybe things are different at the Planet, but in my experience such parties involve drinks. And knowing you, I doubt you got away without at least one toast and drinking with some of your colleagues. So what was it? Beer, champagne, blood?"

"Blood?!" Clark echoed and sat up abruptly, spilling most of his wine over himself and his lover. "Oh. Sorry."

Lex's grin made his blue eyes sparkle. "It's better without the shirts, Clark. No matter what the Campari commercials attempted to indicate, wine on textiles, even on silk, doesn't taste half as good as wine on skin."

Clark blinked. He didn't get the reference, but wasn't unduly shamed by the fact. Somehow he was quite sure that he wouldn't know what Lex was talking about, even if he weren't drunk. Which he wasn't, really. He just wasn't quite his usual sober self. Fascinated, he watched one more drop of red wine fall from his hand onto the mauve shirt below. It looked like blood. Which reminded him ...

"We didn't drink blood, Lex. Just champagne. And some beer. The guys were taking us out to a club afterwards."

"If you say so." Lex's fine eyebrows lifted sardonically. "I wouldn't put it past your partner to be a vampire. There's just something about her that shouts 'evil creature'."

"That's what she's saying about you, you know."

Lex nodded. "I know. I was stealing her line."

"She won't like that," Clark deadpanned.

"Now, what a surprise. I'd say I'm sorry, but I really don't care." Lex smiled arrogantly.

Clark frowned; he didn't like the implication. "It's not as if she hates you."

"Could have fooled me." The sarcasm was heavy in Lex's tone, but then his expression suddenly changed and he leaned forward and affectionately ruffled Clark's hair. "But I know it's personal so I don't mind too much."

"Huh?" That went right over Clark's head. "But ..."

"I know she hates me, because I have you. She's jealous and trying to get at me the only way she can, since you won't react to her advances. It's a little flattering and amusing, actually, if you look at it from the right perspective."

"Um, Lex ..." Clark shook his head. "I hate to tell you, but Lois doesn't even know I exist, in that way. She's totally fixated on Superman."

"Because she can't have you." Lex's kiss was gentle, pressing volumes of love and admiration into mere seconds. "Of course she won't get Superman, either. But neither will anybody else, so she can't really lose there. And with all her exclusive interviews, she's ahead in the hunt, even though the fox will never be caught."

"You make him sound like a prize."

"But he is, Clark. Everyone is in the eyes of a potential partner. Some are just not as obvious as others. Superman is a prize everyone is aware of. He's an immensely powerful being, he's in the news, everyone knows him. There is an undeniable thrill in the thought of catching him as a partner, because if you do it, everyone will also know how special you are. They'll envy you. Lois craves that. That's why she's the kind of reporter she is. She's not after the truth because she believes in justice or anything like that. It's more the thrill of being better than somebody else, of winning, of being acknowledged for her success that's driving her on. She is always reaching for the stars. She won't ever be content with the wonders of Earth."

When Lex finished speaking, Clark sat back and swallowed heavily. "Where does that leave me?" he asked finally, almost whispering.

"You?" Lex touched his cheek gently. "What do you mean?"

"Where do you get your thrill? Since you already have me," he added hesitantly.

"Oh, I have all I need. Once I dreamed of catching a star, but then he descended from the sky and caught me, so that dream became reality. Now I'm more than content. I'm not like Lois, love. I don't need the world's envy to know that I'm bedding the most beautiful person alive. I know what a prize I have." Caressing Clark's face, Lex elaborated. "You're a diamond in the rough, love. Precious and irreplaceable. Yet for some incomprehensible reason, most people don't see you for the gem you are. And I know this doesn't show me in a good light, but I get a real kick out of knowing something others don't. I don't feel the need to rub it in though. It's enough that I know that they are fools. It feeds my superiority complex nicely."

Lex winked at him then, and Clark couldn't stop himself from grinning in reply. He wasn't quite certain if he liked being seen as a prize, but being compared to a precious diamond surely wasn't too bad.

Swallowing the last of his wine, Clark put the glass down and left the couch, mulling over the conversation. When he reached the window to the terrace he looked outside for a while, his eyes on the light-show that was Metropolis.

"Why do you hate Superman, Lex?" he heard himself ask suddenly, wondering if he sounded as scared as he felt. Somehow he had never gotten around to telling his lover his secrets. At first he had been afraid, and then the timing had never seemed right. Every time Clark had decided to come clean, someone had interrupted or something had happened. And then Lex's first anti-Superman speech had been aired and Kal-El had been a mute ever since.

"Why do you hate Superman?" Clark asked again, louder this time, when no reply had come forth.

"That's what I thought you asked." Nothing more.

Trying for a calm expression Clark turned around slowly. Lex had left the couch also, and stood now in the middle of the room, facing him, hands in his pants' pockets, his shirt half open, loosely hanging except for some transparent parts that stuck to his skin. The stance was defiant, but his face spoke of puzzlement.

"I don't hate Superman. I never said that." Lex's toneless words drifted across the room.

"But you said he can't be trusted. That you don't think that he's a good guy."

"You, of all people, should know not to believe everything the press says. That's not what I said, or what I meant." Lex shook his head then walked around the couch, leaning against the backrest. "I said people should not depend on him. They shouldn't look up to him as an all-powerful being, and trust that he will always come to the rescue."

"Why not?"

"Because he can't always be there. He can't save everyone. He's not omnipotent. He's stronger, he's faster, he can fly, true. But he can't be at two places at once. And I have no evidence that he's clairvoyant. So there will be a time, there will be many times, when he won't be there to help." Lex looked at the carpet, then up again and caught Clark's eyes. "Love, all I was saying is that, if something happens, people shouldn't wait for Superman to come to the rescue, but should go for it themselves. If something seems impossible to do at first they have to look for an alternative and not just sit there and wait for a miracle that might not come."

His voice low and soothing, Lex added: "It's not about Superman at all. It's about people and their short-sighted way of looking at things."

Clark looked at his lover and knew he spoke the truth, and yet, something was still left unspoken. "If you don't hate him; if it's not about him. Why are you so intense about it, why do you always bring it up?"

Silence took over the room. The temperature seemed to drop. Then Lex moved. Slowly he walked to the window, keeping his eyes on the view, his shoulder close to but not touching Clark's. "I'm scared," he whispered.

Clark's heart missed a beat as it contracted painfully. "Of m... Su...Superman? But he's helping people, he wouldn't ever do anything to hurt them. He uses his powers for good."

"That doesn't change the fact that he's dangerous."

"But ..." A hand on his mouth silenced Clark. Surprised, he looked down into Lex's troubled blue eyes.

"'The passions are like fire, useful in a thousand ways and dangerous only in one, through their excess,'" Lex quoted. "It's the same with every power or gift. Whether it's strength, money, or just a brilliant mind. I know Superman is doing good. I believe he is a good guy, more than that - a hero. I admire him for what he does. But I'm also scared. Scared for him, mostly." Stroking fleetingly along Clark's cheek, Lex crossed the room once more and settled down in an armchair.

Clark followed him without a second thought. Somehow he knew this was important, knew that his future would be defined by whatever his lover had to say. He sat down on the carpet in front of Lex and looked up expectantly, feeling as if he had swallowed green kryptonite.

Suddenly Lex reached out and began to play with his hair. Despite himself, Clark instantly felt a bit better.

"I'm afraid for Superman, because I know better than most what it means to be a powerful man," Lex began. "I'm one myself. In my own way, I'm just as dangerous as he is. I can destroy lives with a wave of my hand just as he can. All I have to do is sign the right paper. Spend some money. Money is power, you know that."

"But you don't hurt people, either, Lex. You use your money to help." He grabbed Lex's free hand and kissed his palm. "You are a good man."

"Yes. Thanks to you. But that doesn't change the fact of what I'm able to do. Every time I put my signature to a contract, every time I make a decision for LuthorCorp or as a potential mayor, I touch other people's lives. I try to save jobs, but I can't always do it. Sometimes I have to sacrifice one plant to save another. Even with all my money, I can't save everyone. The people who work for me sing my praises, the ones who lost their jobs hate me. It's a burden, Clark. If I were like my father it wouldn't be. But I'm not like him. I feel sorry for those people, it hurts that I failed them. Still, I can take it. Because I know I did my best, because I've realized that I'm not God, and not infallible. And I know that I have you. If things get too difficult, if the world looks too bleak, you'll be here for me. You'll hold me. You love me. As long as I have you, I can make it through."

Lex's hand left Clark's hair and gentle fingers ghosted over his forehead, his eyes, further down over his cheek, then grabbed his chin. "I'm not sure Superman has someone he can go to. If he follows the same pattern as a comic book hero, he probably keeps his identity hidden from everyone, except some close friends or family members. And he probably doesn't want to burden them with his problems. So he keeps it bottled up until it destroys him."

"What do you mean?" Clark wanted to get away. He suddenly felt utterly exposed, but Lex's hand on his chin kept him in place.

"You think that Superman cares for people, don't you?"

"Yes."

"So, then he'll feel guilty if he doesn't save them, won't he?"

"I guess."

"You guess?" Lex's tone was edged. "Clark, you felt guilty - guilty, not only sorry - when Chloe lost her job at the Planet. And that wasn't your fault, nor could you have done anything to prevent it. Now tell me again, will he feel guilty when he can't save someone?"

"Yes. He will." He tried to look down, but Lex wouldn't let him.

"And that will eat slowly away at him. It will change him. Maybe he won't turn evil one day and try to take over the world, instead of rescuing it. But think about it, love. Consider the worst-case scenario. He seems to be pretty indestructible. What if he falls into a depression? What if the guilt becomes so overwhelming that eventually he wants to die? Can you imagine what kind of destruction he might leave in his wake, if he tried to get himself killed? So yes, I'm scared. For him as well as for us."

Never losing eye-contact, Lex slid down and straddled Clark. "Every powerful man needs his safe harbor. Someone to ground him, to hold him together. I'm afraid of what I'll do, what I will become if I ever lose you, love. I need you to be myself, to be stable, to stay a good person. I'm not sure Superman understands that he needs someone, too."

"Maybe he has someone," Clark whispered, his arms going around his lover, holding him tight. "Don't you think that's possible?"

Lex looked at him, blue eyes scanning his very soul. "It's not important what I think, Clark. It's important what Superman thinks."

"And if he told you he has someone like that?"

"Then I'd sleep a lot better, love. A lot. So maybe you can ask him to tell me sometime, okay?"

Clark nodded, even as he swayed closer to kiss Lex. "Okay."

There was a lot to be said for flying. It was a rush, a buzz, a heady feeling that was unlike any other. It was a way of getting away, and losing oneself for a while. There were times when Clark spent hours above the clouds not thinking at all. Unfortunately, today he couldn't escape the real world this way. Because no matter how clear the blue sky and how fresh the wind, he couldn't get the smell of fire, blood and fear off him. He felt burned out, and exhausted to a degree that had to be off the scale.

Where was the high he had felt hours ago? For a while, he had exhilarated in his powers, in what he could do. Rushing in, where no one else could go. Dodging streams of lava, feeling the heat, the danger. Rescuing people, holding them in his arms, carrying them to safety in an improvised ark. Seeing into their faces, seeing fear becoming hope. The smile of a child, the blessing of a woman. He didn't see the dead then, didn't hear the cries of the lost ones, he was too caught up in saving whom he could save, doing what was necessary, what only he could do. It had been intoxicating in a way that alcohol had never been, close to the buzz the red kryptonite gave him, but better, cleaner, and more real. But now that feeling was gone, leaving him empty and cold.

He looked down at Metropolis. While he had been away, a fire had destroyed one of the city's office towers. The fire department had done its best, but nobody had planned for a fire when the building had been constructed. While helicopters could get to the roof and the firemen to the lower levels, the people stuck in the middle had been on their own. Some had died. Many had been injured.

Clark sighed. He could already imagine the headlines in the evening news. 'Where was Superman?' they would ask, and the answer, the news about the volcano erupting in Peru, would be a small article on page five or nine. As if the lives of others didn't count when compared to the deaths of people in Metropolis.

He knew he should feel anger at that, but instead he felt like crying, and yes, guilty. 'God,' he really was tired.

Looking towards the horizon, he could just see the outskirts of Smallville. He knew his parents would welcome him home. His mom would take him in her arms, holding him close as if he were still a child. All the while telling him that he had done his best, that he couldn't be everywhere at once, that it wasn't his fault that people had died. His father would nod, squeeze his shoulder, and add that there really was no need to feel guilty.

They would surround him with their love and he would soak it up, and yet it wouldn't help. Couldn't silence the accusing voices in his head. Because his parents didn't understand, couldn't grasp the fact that the guilt wouldn't just leave because you knew it was unjustified. It came with the package of dealing with life and death every day. Of deciding who would live and who would die. He could never get rid of the guilt. It was a part of him. The trick was to accept the guilt and live with it. Not to dwell on it.

His parents couldn't comprehend what his life was like, no matter how sympathetic they were. Their lives weren't like that. But he knew one person who would understand.

It was not even a conscious decision, because the next moment he was landing on the terrace of the Luthor penthouse.

Two bodyguards were at him at once, their weapons drawn, as they made sure to stand between him and the suite. He wondered what he looked like to them. His suit burned in places, blood and ash all over him. They probably thought he had lost his mind. Why else should he be showing up like this?

Not sure what to say, Clark was saved from thinking something up by Lex himself, who had opened the door to the terrace and was now sending his bodyguards away. The women hesitated for a second, but then obeyed, vanishing to their respective posts.

Clark looked at Lex and wondered what to do. Speak as Superman would? Confess and apologize? His tired mind couldn't come up with an answer. He swallowed, paralyzed by fear as much as exhaustion.

"Come in." Lex stepped back, leaving the door open for him.

Slowly Clark followed. Inside he took a moment to drink in the sight of his lover. Lex was casually dressed, his sweater had a dark blue color that didn't go too well with Lex's complexion but had a soothing effect on Clark. He stood in the middle of the room, his pose expectant, studying him patiently. All in all it didn't seem as if the young billionaire was surprised to see Superman in his penthouse.

Flashing back to their conversation from a week ago, Clark mused that it was possible that Lex had expected Superman to appear one day, probably even in exactly this condition.

Still uncertain about what he should say, Clark cleared his throat, and opened his mouth, but nothing more than a choked "I ..." came out.

Helplessly he stared at Lex, and then he noticed the arms, raised and opened slightly. It was easy to overlook the gesture, to not see it for the invitation it was. But years ago it had been enough for a distraught seventeen-year-old to run into the arms of his best friend, knowing that he would find compassion and understanding.

Seven years later that knowledge was still there, accompanied by the realization that he didn't need to explain anything, that Lex already knew, and had already forgiven him.

Walking into the offered embrace, burying his face against Lex's shoulder, Clark reveled in the strength and warmth of his lover, letting the pure smell of Lex clean his sinuses. He knew he was getting Lex dirty, but he didn't care and neither did Lex it seemed, as he directed them gently towards the couch.

Once they lay down, Clark snuggled as close to his lover as he could, wishing - not for the first time - that he was the smaller one in this relationship. Still, even though he wasn't quite as tall as Clark, Lex managed somehow to give Clark the feeling of being totally surrounded by him. Wrapped in Lex's strong arms, listening to his lover's familiar heartbeat, Clark let go. Tears of frustration were soaked up by Lex's sweater as Clark thought of the injustice of people blaming him for things he hadn't done, while only seldom praising him for the good he did. Then he cried for the people he hadn't been able to rescue, for the ones left behind alone, and finally, for himself, knowing that one day he would be among the latter.

All the while Lex held him, stroked him, gently kissed him. But he didn't say, "It's all right," because it wasn't. And he didn't say, "It will get better," because it would, but it would also be bad again. Sometimes touch was all the comfort acceptable. Or needed.

Eventually Clark calmed down, and his tears dried up.

Lifting his head from his lover's chest, Clark whispered tiredly, "I'm sorry."

Lex nodded. "I know." Then he leaned forward and kissed him.

It wasn't chaste, but it wasn't about passion, either. More like exploring. Reminding Clark of their second kiss. The one to make sure they were on the same page, that the teenager Clark had been then understood what he was getting into. Truly understood.

Surprised, Clark looked at Lex, who grinned slightly. "I've never kissed Superman before," he explained as if he had read Clark's mind.

Clark had to smile at that. The smile felt strange after all the crying, but it felt good, too. "How long have you known?"

Instead of answering, Lex let one hand trace the S-symbol on Clark's uniform. "Alexander the Great's breast plate, love? Very subtle."

"Actually it's the symbol of my house. My alien heritage so to speak."

"Really?" Lex's eyebrows rose skeptically.

"Yeah, really." Clark nodded, but then he blushed lightly and admitted, "Though I probably wouldn't have used it, if it hadn't reminded me of Alexander's breast plate. I'm not that proud of my biological family, you know."

"No, I didn't know," Lex said, his hand leaving the symbol to gently stroke along Clark's cheek. "You can tell me one day. But not now. Now is for you."

"For us," Clark corrected, looking straight into the eyes of his lover. "I came to tell you that Superman has someone who'll always take care of him, who understands, who gets him through the rough spots. He knows this person will not leave him, because they love each other very much."

Lex smiled. "I'm glad," he whispered, leaning in for another kiss. "And proud."

This kiss was about love, passion and completion, about two belonging together.

When they broke it to let Lex breathe, Clark had a revelation. Suddenly he understood that, while for some people flying was the closest thing to freedom, for him it was different, because he actually could fly. So for him, freedom came by drowning instead, by losing himself in another. In Lex.

"Are you all right, love?" Lex asked, his eyes shining with sympathy.

Clark nodded. Then dove in for a kiss once more. Ready to drown.

THE END

© 9. January 2004